A Tale of Jade and Lilac
by TakemyKryptonite
Summary: In real life, luck is a fickle mistress that only fools believe in. Meet a Harry Potter who makes his own luck. Explore magic in a world that is a mite more realistic, balanced, and fleshed out than in canon. Starts with the Dementor attack in OOTP and goes AU from there.
1. Harry's First Kiss

Pain lanced through his skull as consciousness beckoned. The boy stirred as his senses began to flood him with information. Almost instinctively, his nose scrunched up. It wasn't that the infirmary smelled bad, on the contrary, Poppy made sure the place was spotless and odourless. It was just that when he ended up at the infirmary, it was always after whatever life-threatening event he'd escaped only by the skin of his teeth. He delved into his memory, wondering what escapade had landed him under Poppy's mercies this time.

He remembered Tom's impromptu re-birthday bash at the graveyard. He vaguely recollected returning to the Dursleys and his room at Privet Drive, but that was as far as he got. 'Right, so that means I must've gotten hurt at the Dursleys. Did ole' Dursley finally snap? Or was it Diddykins and his gang?'

As Harry lay pondering which of the two Dursleys had socked him, he heard two voices murmuring a small distance away. He cautiously opened his eyes, making sure not to draw attention to himself.

His heart warmed when he saw Ron and Hermione next to his bed, seated in a couple of chairs facing each other and locked in an argument, their voices going back and forth in a furious flurry.

"It doesn't matter what Dumbledore -" " _Professor_ Dumbledore, Ron" "- told us to do, Hermione. We should've been in touch with him."

Harry heard Hermione sigh.

"Ron, you know I wanted nothing more than to write Harry. But it wasn't that simple. All it would've taken is for Them to follow an owl from the Burrow straight to Harry's house."

Silence.

"We should've still talked to him somehow, the fellytone or something," Ron said stubbornly.

Hermione laughed and her breath caught.

"I know. I don't know if I could've ever forgiven myself if something had happened to him."

"Forgive yourself? It's not like you sent the dementors innit?"

Harry froze. 'Dementors?'

Hermione hummed noncommittally. "I wonder who sent them. It couldn't have been you know who. He hardly had time after the graveyard to go to Azkaban and convert the dementors to his side."

Ron sputtered, "It was surely Him! The only other people who could do it are the Ministry themselves!"

"Ron!" Hermione furiously whispered. "Keep your voice down! And yes, the Ministry of Magic. The same Ministry that seems to be going out of its way to slander and silence Harry and the Headmaster."

"Oh," came Ron's glum voice. "That's not a pretty thought."

Silence.

"...that's downright terrifying that is."

A cold silence descended over the trio. Harry decided the infirmary could use a little excitement and prepared his best stentorian voice.

"Oh Lord Jesus it's a fire!" he yelled and sat up.

Hermione screamed and slipped from her chair and fell to the floor. Ron jumped up, wide-eyed and staring. Harry laughed as his two friends blushed.

Hermione stood, plaintively rubbing her behind and seemed torn between hugging him to death and sending him back to sleep the easy way. She finally decided on a light punch to the shoulder and a muttered "Git!" and hugged him tightly.

Ron was Ron and simply slapped him on the shoulder. "Good to have you back, mate!"

"How do you feel, Harry?" Hermione asked sitting down beside him on the bed while Ron dragged his armchair closer to the bed before collapsing bonelessly on it, earning a half-hearted glare from Hermione

"Honestly? Much better than I expected really. I had a headache when I woke up, but it's almost gone now..."

The unasked question hung over them ominously, like a cloud that had yet to decide whether to drizzle or unleash a storm.

"Harry mate... Do you remember what happened?" Ron asked tentatively.

Harry shook his head, his lips set into a hard line. "The last thing I remember is going back to the Dursleys after school ended last year... So... what did happen?"

"The Headmaster thinks it was the dementors, Harry. The last thing anyone knows for sure is that you asked Dudley to run home and that you'd 'hold them back'. Professor Lupin and an auror found you in the street with a dementor leaving your side."

"Was I kissed?" he asked bluntly

Hermione shifted uneasily. "We don't know that for sure..."

Harry looked to Ron with a questioning look, who thanks to either a lack of emotional maturity or maybe a penchant for directness, always went with the unfiltered truth.

The redhead nodded somberly. "You were... Dudley had already reached your house by that point, so the dementor was there at least for a few minutes before Lupin reached you..."

"And it needs only a few seconds to kiss a person." Harry finished.

An uneasy silence once again descended. Harry reached out a hand and plucked a hair from Ron's head.

"Ow! Bloody hell! What was that for!"

"Science."

Hermione suppressed a snigger at his side as Ron rubbed his head, muttering under his breath about mad gits.

Harry sighed. "A first kiss from a dementor. Wonderful."

"Good thing you don't remember it!" Ron quipped.

"Ron!" Swat! "Ow! No wonder I don't do well in the exams, Mione! You keep hitting the brains out of me!" Ron exclaimed indignantly.

Harry and Hermione looked at each other and chuckled. Maybe it was the stress, or maybe it was the uncertainty that hung over them like the sword of Damocles, but the chuckle turned into a belly aching laugh and the duo had tears streaming down their faces as they rolled around the bed laughing.

Ron looked mutinous, trying to decide if he was being laughed at, but finally cracked a smile as he watched his two best friends make fools out of themselves. They were much too serious all the time, he mused. Hermione in her pursuit of sating the rules, and Harry dealing with whatever life threw his way - and man was there a lot of that.

The laughing petered out and the trio settled into a comfortable silence. They turned as they heard the staccato of Madam Pomfrey's shoes coming their way. Ron and Hermione stood up and greeted the school healer politely. She smiled briefly at them before turning to Harry.

"Mr Potter, I see you've decided to grace my presence once again." She looked stern but her lips quirked upwards.

"What can I say, Poppy, I guess I missed you."

"Harry!" Hermione looked scandalized.

"Oh, that's quite alright Miss Granger. I believe I have a potion for young Mr Potter here that should cure him of his sass."

Harry's smirk disappeared like a rat fleeing a tabby cat. "A potion?" He asked cautiously.

"Just a headache-relieving potion, Mr Potter, don't you worry," said the healer as she wove her wand in intricate patterns over Harry, casting diagnostic spells.

"Hmm..." she frowned. "You are fully recovered Mr Potter... but..." she hesitated and raised her wand to run through her diagnostics once again.

"What is it Madam Pomfrey," he hesitantly asked.

She didn't reply for a good thirty seconds as she glanced through the results that had appeared on a piece of floating parchment. She finally looked up and let the parchment dissolve back into nothing.

"You are recovered, Mr Potter. In perfect health, I'm glad to say. But... your vitals are markedly different from just a month ago after the tournament."

"Is that not supposed to happen?" Hermione asked curiously.

"No Miss Granger, a person's vitals are like their fingerprints. They never change. Whatever Mister Potter has been through has seemed to change him. And it's not a bad change, from what I can glean."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

The healer looked at the three of them. "A wizard's or a witch's magic is not infinite. If they perform too much magic at once, their magical core, the source of their magic, is drained. We have different statistics to measure a person's core like its strength and potency, among others. Mr Potter's core has expanded considerably."

"Could it have been under a bind of some kind?" Harry asked.

"Magical binds are nothing but rumours," she looked at him sharply. "A person's magic is innate to them. There's nothing one can do to lose it."

Hermione's brows furrowed in thought.

"But, Madam Pomfrey, I thought that the Ministry could bind a person's magic if they wish to live in the muggle world without a magical education?"

"Ah... What the Ministry actually does is wipe the person's memory of any reference to magic and the wizarding world. They live the rest of their lives without knowing they are magical."

The trio descended into a pensive silence while Madam Pomfrey measured out a vial of a greenish, gunky potion.

"Here, Mr Potter. It will relieve any headaches that might be ailing you.

Harry made a face and tried not to gag as he swallowed the contents of the vial in a single breathless gulp.

He tried not to gag. "Why do they all have to taste so bad?" he complained as he handed the vial back.

"You mean have them taste good and give you even more reason to come back to the infirmary? I don't think so, Mr Potter." Poppy smiled.

"Now off with the three of you. I've been informed by the Headmaster that you are free to explore the castle to your heart's content for the afternoon. You'll be heading home this evening at 5 from the floo here," she gestured at the fireplace.

"Thanks for patching me up Madam Pomfrey! I'll be back soon!"

"I'm sure you will, Mr Potter," she said diplomatically, refusing to tempt the odds on the teen's near death experiences.

It was early afternoon, and they had a leisurely lunch in the kitchens, served by over-eager house elves who seemed to be lacking enough work in the summer. Harry and Ron wisely led the conversation away from the topic of the elves while Hermione seemed torn between thanking the elves profusely and storming up to the Headmaster's office and demanding that he release them.

They spent the rest of the evening catching Harry up on the events of their summers - he'd lost a good month of his memory before the dementor attack - and strolling through the blessedly empty corridors with only the clunky metallic suits of armour, the castle ghosts, and the magical portraits for company.

When it was time to leave Hogwarts, they headed back to the infirmary. Madam Pomfrey was waiting for them by the fireplace along with the gnarled, battle-worn figure of Mad-Eye Moody. The real one this time, thankfully. He handed Harry a scrap of parchment that read 'The Headquarters of the Order of The Phoenix is at 12 Grimmauld Place'

Harry quirked an eyebrow at Hermione and she whispered in his ear. "It's a Fidelius secret. Only those who know it can remember or enter a Fidelius charmed location."

They stepped into the fireplace in turns, and Harry was spat out of the green fire and tumbled unceremoniously onto a hard wooden floor. Moody, Hermione and Ron exited the Floo almost gracefully, grinning at the heap of human limbs that was Harry at the moment.

He groaned and slowly stood up.

"I swear you guys aren't telling me something about how to floo," he mumbled as he brushed off the ash from his clothes.

Moody looked confused and was about to open his mouth when Ron shook his head furiously to stop him. He shrugged, the business of teenagers was none of his business after all. His job done, he grunted at the three students in farewell before leaving the room.

"Is he here?!"

The door that Mad-Eye had just left from opened suddenly and Sirius stood in the doorway grinning widely.

"Harry!" he exclaimed and crossed the room in two strides and wrapped the teen in a bear hug. "I'm so glad you're alright!'

"Uh... thanks, Sirius..." Harry said as he awkwardly patted his godfather's back. He was still a stranger to comforting someone physically. Mrs Weasley gave good hugs but they were too life-threatening as his oxygen supply was always cut off. Hermione hugged him from time to time, but as she was quite shy herself, she only did so after a stay at the infirmary or after he'd done something stupid - which meant she would try to crush him to within an inch of his life. And Ron was simply too much of a guy's guy to dole out hugs, he usually settled for a backslap and a "Bloody hell mate! We were worried sick!"

Sirus finally let him go, having drawn comfort from his godson's presence.

"So how have you been Harry, heard you had your first kiss. Took your breath away?"

The three looked at him with wide eyes and shocked laughter left Harry's lips.

"Madam Pomfrey gave me a clean bill of health. I'm good to go." He smiled.

Sirius wrapped an arm around his shoulders as they left the floo room. "'Escaping Poppy' - We should write a book, you and I," he mused

"Sirius... where are we?" Harry asked.

Sirius turned to look at Harry's friends with a questioning look on his face.

"We wanted to let you tell him and give you two a chance to talk," Hermione explained. "I think I'm going to head up to my room now, give you two some time."

She hugged Harry tightly and left with a smile. Ron followed suit with a grin and a "Good to have you back Harry. Just... try not to die in the next few hours, yeah?"

"They're good friends," Sirius commented.

"They are indeed," Harry confirmed, a warm feeling blossoming in his stomach.

Sirius led him to into a large living room. The walls were painted a dull violet and an intricate wooden showcase wrapped around the room, housing hundreds of books. The room was pleasant, more so than the small glimpse he'd gotten from the rest of the house. A semi-circle of couches surrounded a warm fire in the hearth. The two sat facing each other and Harry melted into the plush cushions with a sigh.

"I guess I owe you a story, Harry. You know how I've been laying low and out of Ministry sight?"

"Yes?"

"Last year, I went around checking up on the Black properties in the UK. Most of them had been taken over by a shell company operated by the Malfoys. But the one we are in was locked and warded, refusing entry to all but a son of Black -"

"Isn't Draco..."

"A male Black? Yes. But fortunately for us, the spoiled tit wasn't of age. Another couple of years and ole Lucy would have gotten his manicured hands on this place too." Sirius seemed a bit bitter. 'So would I be, if the bloody Malfoys decided to steal my family's houses,' Harry thought.

"I'm sorry Sirius..." Harry offered hesitantly.

"Not at all, Harry, I couldn't care less about the fortunes of the Blacks. They were truly despicable - hearts as dark as a lump of coal. Almost every member of the family was lost to the Black madness. One that came from decades of dabbling in the foulest of magics."

"But how are you so good?" Harry blurted before his mind-mouth filter could engage.

Sirius smirked.

"Why I do believe that was a compliment."

Harry huffed. "You know what I mean. You're so nice... and..."

"Sane?"

Harry nodded hesitantly.

"Sometimes, I don't believe that myself," Sirius chuckled darkly. He shook his head to clear it, an action that seemed oddly reminiscent of his canine animagus form.

"If I've even retained a fraction of my sanity and my morality, it's thanks to the Potters."

Sirius smiled as Harry's eyes widened.

"My mother was always disappointed in me. I wasn't cruel enough as a child for her liking. And when I was sorted into Gryffindor, life over the holidays became a living hell. I don't want to drag up old memories, but let's just say that to my mom, the Cruciatus curse was child's play."

Harry maintained a calm exterior but was horrified inside. He could never even imagine going through that as a child! The Dursleys are practically saints compared to Sirius' mother.

"In the summer after my third year, I decided I'd had enough. My thoughts were taking a turn towards the violent, and even violence and revenge against those who harm you leads you inevitably down a dark path. And as a Black, it would be all too easy for me to slip into their madness. So I ran. I ran to my best friend's house. I had Kreacher, my elf, take me to the rough location of Potter Manor with only my wand in hand and I wandered around the Scottish woods for two days before I felt the strong wards of the manor."

He smiled fondly. "Charlus and Dorea Potter, your grandparents, they took me in without question. Their only conditions being that I tell no one that I was under the care of the Potters. If the Black family found out, they could charge the Potters with the kidnapping of their and drag them in front of the Wizengamot. And so I stayed, I spent my days with Prongs and his parents and I learned what love was for the first time in my life. They were great people, Harry. The Potters, each of them larger than life, but still real. Dorea, your grandmother, was a Black by birth and understood where I came from. She helped me heal and recover from..."

Sirius cleared his throat. "I spent my summers and winters with the Potters, and that's how I am who I am. The two worst days of my life were when Charlus and Dorea, my parents in all but blood, were killed in 1978, and when James and Lily, my siblings in all but blood were..."

Sirius' eyes filled with tears and his voice was choked.

"The Potters were my family, Harry. I don't think I'll ever forgive myself for not making you my immediate focus on the night of Halloween 1981. Because of my mistake, we've both been stuck with our gaolers for the last 14 years. But no more. I'm taking you away from the UK, Harry. I had hoped we could finish your education here in peace. But with You Know Who back..."

"Leave the UK? What do you mean Sirius?" Harry asked, his voice lowered in trepidation. His godfather looked at him for a moment, weighing something in his mind.

"What do you know of the first war, Harry?"

"Not much, to be honest..." Harry admitted. "I didn't want to read about... you know..."

"Harry... the first war tore the country apart. He was truly undefeatable, anyone who faced him on the battlefield died horribly. The only reason Hogwarts stayed open with a semblance of peace was due to Albus Dumbledore and his Order of The Phoenix. Back then the ranks of the Order was full to the brim with veterans of the war against Grindelwald and a decade of war with V- Voldemort. Even then, we barely held back the tide of the Death Eaters. The Ministry was practically non-existent, an almost neutral force that both sides kept operational to uphold the veneer of the Statue of Secrecy, not for the sake of the Muggles, you see. But so as to not invite the wrath of the ICW. Muggleborn were methodically kidnapped and killed every day, while half-bloods were tortured and... abused. It was war, Harry. A war as brutal, bloody, amoral, and as disgusting as you can possibly expect it to be. The Death Eaters were without qualms and they used our morals against us without a shred of remorse. Babies and children, women and senior citizens, no one was spared the torture, abuse, and death."

Harry listened, horror pooling in his stomach. This was the man he'd been facing all these years? This... monster... How could anyone support this?

"Today, none of that opposition exists, Harry. The Order is full of spooks and lazy old men. The only fighters are Moody, Shacklebolt and a few of the newer aurors. The Ministry and the Auror Corps are corrupt and thoroughly infiltrated by the Death Eaters that escaped Azkaban following the purge after 1981. The richer ones like the Malfoys and the Notts have been recruiting on the sly - there's no shortage of pureblood bigots as you well know. If Voldemort comes into the open, the first thing to fall this time will be the Ministry, not the last. Hell, they wouldn't even have to replace the Minister, Fudge is a spineless coward and already in Lucius' pocket. The war this time will completely and utterly ruin England, Harry. Our only hope is to run."

Sirius sat back, looking at Harry, encouraging him to speak his mind.

"Sirius.. we _can't_ run. Hermione, the Weasleys, the Muggleborn students. We can't condemn the people to this again!" Harry looked desperate, anguished, afraid - but determination burned within him. He couldn't let this monster rise again. He would fight tooth for tooth and inch for inch. Politics with Politics and fire with fiendfyre.

"Harry? What will you do?" Sirius asked quietly.

"What?" Harry blinked.

"What will you do against him?"

"I'll contact the Daily Prophet and..."

"Malfoy, Nott, and Greengrass own controlling shares."

"I'll train myself..."

"You're just one person, and a teenager, regardless of how much you've been through."

"My friends and classmates..."

"Are children and will remain children until the war starts."

Harry was beginning to get frustrated. How could Sirius not understand? They _needed_ to fight Voldemort.

"Fine! I'll at least bloody try to evacuate the muggle-born."

"Okay."

"What?" Harry hadn't been expecting any positive reply at this point.

"You finally had an idea that was achievable and feasible in the timespan we have, so I said yes."

Harry's face brightened. "I have to talk to Hermione's parents first, see what they think."

Sirius smirked. "They're selling their dental business as we speak. They're shifting to Australia in a few weeks. New identities and everything. They seem to be quite well off, thankfully."

Harry was stunned. "This... is unexpected. You knew I would suggest that, didn't you?"

Sirius shrugged. "It's a logical conclusion. And besides, your brain is a combination of both James and Lily, so I can read you pretty well really. It's an unfair advantage. Sorry." He didn't sound all that apologetic.

Harry shook his head. Damn Marauders. Always a step ahead. Not that he was complaining in this case.

"How did the Grangers take it?"

"Not good. Thankfully, Hermione had told them about my innocence, so they weren't too surprised or try to blow my head off when a mass murderer showed up at their doorstep. But I levelled with them. I held nothing back and we talked for six hours straight. I told them all about the last war and how it was stopped only through a stroke of luck that made lottery tickets seem like a certainty. They did thank me profusely afterwards, though. Hermione had... filtered your exploits in school, it would seem. They didn't seem very happy with her, I wouldn't want to be her the next time she meets her parents."

"You're evil." Harry grinned. "And the Weasleys?"

"They were surprisingly easy to convince. Molly was sold as soon as I opened my mouth. Feels good to have her on my side for a change. She even complimented me on how sensible a parent I'm becoming. _Sensible_! Me!" Sirius beamed. "But money is going to be a problem for them, but I've got ways around that too. We'll discuss them later."

"Any other brilliant plans I should know of?" Harry asked. He was coming to respect Sirius. The man had a keen mind, for all his outwardly childish behaviour.

"Oh, tons!"

"..."

"What?"

"Tell me!"

"Tell you what?"

"Your plans you git!"

"What pla... Ow! Hey, stop that!" Sirius ducked as an arm pillow flew at his head. "Fine! Alright, Mr Fun-Killer, let's move to my study and I'll show you."

"When are you getting neutered?"

"WHAT!" Sirius exploded, not expecting the question.

"What." Harry looked innocent. "Surely you know that pets travelling internationally the muggle way have to be neutered? Don't worry, Padfoot. It won't hurt, I'll take you to a nice vet."

"You..." Sirius sputtered, trying to figure out if his godson was serious. He had James' mischievousness and Lily's ruthless streak. Not a good combination for anyone in his sights.

Harry's eyes glinted and Sirius bolted up the stairs. "Stay away from me, you ball thief!"

Only the sounds of evil laughter followed him upstairs.


	2. Horcruxes are so in right now

To a large majority of those who passed through the narrow street in the London borough of Islington, the space between 11 and 13 Grimmauld Place was non-existent. The dignified, weather-worn brickwork of 11 - home to a young immigrant family of five - smoothly transitioning into 13 - a refuge to an ageing widower seeking escape in the arms of his Vicodin.

To others, a minority, a feeling of dread slowly crept up their backs the closer they came to the area. They often surreptitiously palmed their wands, a curse on the tip of their tongues and eyes furtively searching for would-be attackers. Those with the misfortune of having to pass under the oppressive magic of the area swore to never take the route again, only to inevitably forget having felt anything odd at all...

But to a small minority among that minority, the space between 11 and 13 expanded to fit an entire townhouse. 12 Grimmauld Place was their escape. Their secret to keep. Bought by the Lord Black a century and a half ago, it was the home of the Blacks. A family famous for their infamy and the inevitable madness that dogged its members.

It was a veritable fortress. Ancient Black wards stretched invisibly over an entire city block, monitoring all foreign magicals nearby, the powerful ward-stones fed by a minor Ley line that ran underneath the locality. A Fidelius charm added a few months ago had stripped all knowledge of the house's location from anyone who'd previously been aware of it, its secret now safely stored in the soul of arguably the most powerful wizard on the side of the light. Albus Dumbledore.

The place was also humongous. While the apartment complex certainly didn't look big enough on the outside, runic expansion schemes were carved liberally into the walls and ceilings, giving the complex upwards of fifty rooms. More than half were luxurious personal suites - 'perfect for uppity young purebloods,' Ron had joked, then blushed and mumbled an apology as Sirius had raised an eyebrow at him. Of the five floors in total, the second was Harry's favourite. It housed a gymnasium with an array of weights, a magical treadmill - which was honestly just a circle of floor charmed to be frictionless, advanced duelling dummies, and spell resistant walls. The floor was a seemingly seamless slab of smooth, scarlet stone which was laced with a variant of the cushioning charm that gave it the feel of soft rubber padding.

Next door to the gym was something that made Harry slightly drool when Sirius took the trio for a tour on Harry's second day at HQ. The Black Armoury. A room the size of Hogwarts' Great Hall, except filled to the brim with deadly weapons. Filled, as in _filled._ A weapons display, it was not.

The room was stocked with weapons from the past several millennia that, thanks to the brilliance of magic, looked none the worse for wear. The unending stacks of swords from various civilizations were quite impressive and earned a well deserved "Morgana's heaving tits!" from a wide-eyed Ron. Unfortunately for the lad, it was in the presence of Hermione, who then proceeded to threaten him with the use of the pointed implements around her in... imaginative ways... if he didn't learn to watch what spewed out of the 'hole you call your mouth'.

Smirking at the antics of his friends as he looked around, Harry's eyes were drawn to the ranged weapons. There were the simple hunting bows, small, light and easily drawn. Then there were the Beasts. Ornately carved bows that stood as tall as he did. When he asked Sirius which people could have handled a bow this large, the man had snorted - "The bloody Vikings, that's who." The crossbows were intriguing too. Compact and easy to use. He made a mental note to try them out at the gym later.

Harry moved to the stands where countless arrows of different sizes were lined vertically. He bent to inspect an arrowhead and traced the smooth metal on its side with his fingertips. Rune carvings. These were magical arrows! He called Hermione to take a look at the Runes, but it was a script she'd never come across before. She did, however, recognize the runes on a different set of arrows. The array was just a basic one that dealt with the durability of the metallic arrowhead.

As he left the armoury almost an hour later with the other three, his thoughts were still revolving around the runic carvings he'd found on countless other weapons as he'd looked for them carefully. He was utterly fascinated by how a simple runic array could deeply affect the properties of the simplest of the muggle weapons he'd seen. His mind, which had quite ironically felt lighter since the dementor attack, was alight with scenarios and ideas as he considered the damage he could do with a good knowledge of runes. Hmm... time to hit up Hermione.

"Hey, Hermione, you DTF?"

Sirius choked. Hermione narrowed her eyes and blushed a bright red. "Harry?!"

"Down to Futhark?" he clarified. "I wanted to get a crash course on Runes, you mind pointing me in the right direction?"

Hermione, still sporting a blush, got a slightly... manic? glint in her eye that worried Harry. He was unceremoniously dragged into the library by the bushy haired witch. A stack of books five feet high was plonked on to his desk with a stern "Read them exactly in this order." And so Harry's fate was sealed - but for the first time, he was looking forward to having his nose buried in a book.

The week after Harry's arrival at 12 Grimmauld Place was eventful... to say the least. Dobby and Winky were recruited - against Hermione's adamant protestations, of course - and had taken to the job of cleaning the townhouse with their usual gusto. Two days after the cleaning had begun, Dobby popped into Sirius' study, where the Marauder and Harry were hammering out the plans for the Muggleborn extraction teams.

"Master Harry Potter sir, please come with Dobby."

Harry noted the usually exuberant elf's solemn voice.

"What is it, Dobby? Is everyone alright? Is it Winky?"

"No Master Harry, it be Kreacher. He haves evil necklace. Like the black book from Dobby's old master."

"The Diary, you mean?"

Dobby nodded, as he led the two downstairs to the basement, where the elves had their quarters and handled the laundry of the townhouse. At Sirius' questioning look, Harry briefly explained the events of his second year.

"Harry," Sirius' voice had an undercurrent of urgency. "Tell me _exactly_ what happened when you stabbed that book."

The two stopped at the first-floor landing and a restless Dobby waited a few feet away, wringing his little hands.

"Uh.. well, Tom seemed really afraid at what I was about to do. The book started bleeding when I stabbed it with the fang and I can almost swear I heard a scream from both the book _and_ Tom's projection or whatever he was. I repeatedly stabbed it and as the book fully bled out, Tom's image finally vanished with a scream. And then Ginny woke up."

"And this... image of... Tom, he held your wand and performed spells? He was not a ghost or a wraith?"

"Not a chance. He used my wand. I heard his footsteps. He was there. I'm sure of it."

"Shit. That paranoid _son_ _of a bitch_. God damn!"

"What is it, Padfoot? What's wrong?" Harry asked, wary and palming his wand. His godfather was never one to lose control. And when he did... well... a 12-year stay in Azkaban followed.

"It wasn't a memory you saw that day, Harry. An enchanted object, no matter how powerful, can't do all of that. It was him."

"Of course it was him, Padfoot, I just told y..."

"No, Harry." Sirius gripped his godson's shoulders. "The person you saw, it was actually him. Not a memory. Not a projection. It was his soul. The diary was a container for a piece of his soul... called a Horcrux. When it was given to Ginny... it began to take over her body and soul, consuming both to provide him with a body. The Black children were told horror stories of Herpo the Foul and his quest for immortality, and how he was driven to madness by splitting his soul to create a Horcrux. Even with the depravities that the Blacks dabbled in, they never even _considered_ creating Horcruxes."

"And there's another of those things _here_?" Harry asked, his eyes widening.

"Dobby! Let's go." Sirius urged as the three practically sprinted down the staircase to the basement.

The house-elf quarters were miniaturized, spartan rooms. Kreacher lay on a small bed in a body bind. A Golden locket and its chain lay on the floor next to the bed. Sirius shrugged off his thick dragonhide coat and levitated the locket carefully into it before wadding the coat up into a ball. The trio stood next to the bed unconsciously relaxed, the dark aura of the locket cut off by the magic resistant dragonhide.

Dobby snapped his fingers and released Kreacher.

"Kreacher! I order you to tell me about the necklace." Sirius bit out, his patience hanging by a frayed cotton thread.

Kreacher looked mulish but was forced to comply by the magic of his bond to the House of Black.

"Great Master Regulus stoled the locket from the Dark Lord. Master was dying... and he gave Kreacher the locket and told him to destroy it but Kreacher could not! He tried and he tried but... Kreacher tried fire and... and to break it... but..." the wizened house elf was wailing by this point, clearly distraught. Harry directed Dobby to watch over Kreacher to ensure he didn't hurt himself. The little elf nodded soberly.

"Kreacher is rude elf. But he is loyal to his master. Dobby will help Kreacher."

And... that was that. They finally had the answer to why the Tub of Lard wouldn't. Just. Stay. _Dead_.

Horcruxes.

Pieces of his soul stored in inanimate objects that would anchor his spirit to the mortal realm. A brilliant idea in some ways. Absolutely bollocking stupid in most others.

Harry worried that they would have to go to the Chamber of Secrets to retrieve a Basilisk fang. But Sirius guessed that it was the venom that had affected the Diary rather than the fang itself. They put the theory to test by suspending the locket in a few hundred galleons worth of Basilisk venom acquired from Knockturn Alley. The outer shell of the locket dissolved slowly in the corrosive venom, but once it did, the venom attacked the Horcrux and obliterated it as it had the Diary. The locket was a charred mess and the soul piece, history. Quite anticlimactic really.

On the heels of the Horcrux business followed a Chief Warlock. He'd requested a private meeting with Harry and Sirius and the two had acquiesced, with the latter wondering what crap the old goat was going to peddle now. And peddle crap he did.

Harry was furious at the revelation that his scar had been host to a piece of Voldemort's soul. That he'd been one of those abominations himself. But Sirius blessedly interjected at this point adding that if Harry had been a Horcrux, he wouldn't have made it past five years of age. Utmost, the soul piece had been a leech, nothing more, nothing less. With a stern look, he ordered Harry not to make a big deal out of it as he would only disturb and unsettle himself.

Thankfully, the dementor had sensed the soul piece that was closest to the surface and had sucked it away, leaving Harry's soul intact and alone. Having to no longer deal with a leech on his life force, Harry realized this was the reason his body and mind were showing a marked improvement ever since. He didn't feel like a new man by any means, he had the same blurry eyesight and the thrice-damned nest of hair. But a foggy weight had been lifted off his senses, blessing him with a clearer and more analytical mind.

It was this mind that told him to stop trusting Albus Dumbledore and to "Kindly level with us and tell us what you know, or please leave. That's the only way we'll give you even an iota of support moving forward. We don't have time for your spy games, Headmaster."

And thus came, albeit reluctantly, the truth about the prophecy. Somehow, Sirius seemed to be more affected by it than Harry himself. But to be fair, Harry had known Voldemort's obsession with him, and that he would always come after him. The only thing that changed after learning the prophecy was the why behind the obsession. In the end, it didn't affect the future, so it was worthless to him. Harry said as much to the Headmaster and advised the man to drop the guard on the DoM and begin focusing on the war against Voldemort. Sirius added that the only people who could touch the prophecy orb were those the contents spoke of. So, if Harry didn't retrieve it, Voldemort himself had to make a personal appearance at the Ministry to take the orb. And in the unlikely odds that it did happen, it would still be a win for the Order, considering that Fudge and Co. would get to meet the Dark Lord up close.

Dumbledore looked calculating and a mite pleased. The vigil at the DoM _was_ taking up too many of his assets. Thanking the duo, he left with a dramatic flourish of his violet robes. He added before leaving that he would be back in a few days to give them the information he'd been gathering about Voldemort's Horcruxes.

Harry was beginning to realize the true scope of just how bad things were going to get for Magical Britain considering its leaders were only good at micro-managing things - and quite poorly at that. It was now the middle of June 1995, a month and a half after Voldemort's rebirth at Little Hangleton. Harry estimated that Voldemort would only begin his attacks by the end of the year, the man was smart enough to use the time that the Ministry spent with its head in the sand to recruit and bolster his forces. And the Ministry wouldn't matter anyway because it was peppered with Voldemort's men in high positions already. Walden Macnair, Thaddeus Nott, Lucius Malfoy... they were just the tip of the proverbial iceberg.

No, Wizarding Britain was well and truly about to be shafted. It was time for damage control. Sirius and Harry once again put their heads together, throwing together a plan to get word to as many honest Ministry officials, muggle-born, and half-bloods as possible about Voldemort's return. When Voldemort returned to the public eye, they would be hunted with a vengeance.

Kingsley Shacklebolt, a Senior Auror at the DMLE and a member of the Order, was surprised by Harry's request to meet with Amelia Bones, the head of the DMLE. But he readily agreed, gauging that only good would come out of such a meeting. He was right. Amelia Bones was an absolute godsend for Harry. She listened patiently to his information about the rebirth ritual. She requested a Pensieve memory from him to identify the Death Eaters that had apparated into the graveyard and was incensed to see Department Heads from the MoM grovelling at the feet of the Dark Lord. She promised Harry that she would bring the DMLE up to a war footing on the sly. Fudge might be a coward, but that was no reason why everyone else should suffer for that fact. Harry also dropped vague hints about the innocence of his godfather and when asked, provided memories from that night in his third year. Amelia admitted that with the current political climate, Fudge wouldn't even dream of sacrificing his go-to scapegoat, Sirius Black. But she did promise to keep an eye out for Pettigrew. If he were to be captured, innocence for Sirius would most likely follow. Harry also told her briefly about the Horcruxes and that he was taking up the responsibility to destroy any that were left. Besides, he added, Dumbledore was aware of them, so between the two of them, he was confident he could track them down.

With the meeting - pleasantly productive for both parties - wrapping up, he told her he was leaving the country in a few months with the Grangers until he finished his NEWTs. She had an approving look in her eye.

"Quite right, Mr Potter. Children have no place in a war. I worry about my Susan myself."

"About that, Madam Bones... I spoke with the Grangers about meeting you today. Hermione is close to Susan at Hogwarts and the Grangers wished to invite Susan to live with them in Australia."

"Indeed? That's a most generous offer I must say..." She looked thoughtful.

"Madam Bones..." "Amelia, please, Harry." "Amelia... I think this is a good opportunity for Susan to get away from the war. The Grangers are good people. They have only love for Hermione, and seem to have practically adopted me even though I met them only a few days ago."

"Could I meet them in a few weeks?"

"Certainly, Madam Bones. The place we're currently staying in is... well..." Harry blushed.

Amelia smirked. "Let me guess, the old man's Order?"

Harry blanched. "How did you..."

"Oh come on lad, the Order is worst kept secret in Magical Britain after the Chamber of Secrets. With the Dark Lord back, it makes sense that Dumbledore has started it back up. I don't like it, of course, but I do appreciate having them around while the Minister decides to play hide and seek with the Dark Lord." She scowled at the last sentence, and Harry bit back a grin.

"Yes, well, the place is under a Fidelius charm and is known to only the Order. Please read this, Amelia."

He carefully unwrapped a note and handed it over to her. She memorized it and once she was done, the note burned itself.

"Thank you, Mr Potter. I'll send you an owl to finalize the date of our meeting."

"Anytime, Amelia, we'd love it if could have both you and Susan over for dinner. That way, Susan can meet the Grangers too."

Amelia smiled. "Certainly. I shall bring Susan along. And Mr Potter, I hate to have to ask this of you when you're being so kind. But with my oaths to the Ministry, it's probably for the best that I don't come across a certain innocent man."

She looked chagrined at having to say that.

"No worries, Amelia, that was pretty much along the lines of my thoughts. I would never have made you choose in the first place."

Harry was thrilled as he reached home later that day. The meeting had gone far better than he had ever hoped. With a top Ministry official aware of the Death Eater moles inside the Ministry, the MoM wouldn't be an easy target for Voldemort. Maybe Britain was not completely a lost cause after all.

Speaking of good news, he was immeasurably glad that the Grangers had insisted he come along when they made their plans to shift abroad. He didn't even want to _think_ about separating himself from Hermione. Ron was a good mate that he was glad to be friends with. But the bloke was still a young soul and slave to his emotions of jealousy and anger. His and Harry's friendship still had a long road ahead to becoming one that could maybe last a lifetime. But Hermione, well... she was immature, sure... but the girl loved selflessly. Like with her crusade for the house elves, she would set her jaw and remain stubborn in the face of a thousand berating voices. Harry sometimes wondered what he'd done to gain her trust and loyalty. During the course of his previous year, he'd sworn to himself to never take her for granted. She'd been his only barrier against insanity, a lone voice of support in an ocean of dissent and disdain. And that voice had saved his life.

He'd lately begun to wonder what a life with her would be like. Beyond the war. Beyond the chaos. Just the two of them. Cuddling on the sofa. Watching a movie. Helping her tame her hair. Making love. He fell asleep at night to those thoughts with a smile on his face and an indescribable warmth in his chest. Just the thought that a future like that was even imaginable was enough for him... for now.

The Weasleys... were another story. They decided as a family to shift to Budapest where Mr Weasley would take up a job managing a Black Family owned business that dealt in the export of enchanted items. Only Molly's adamant fixation of getting her babies away from the war had quelled Mr Weasley's pride at having to receive help. He was further mollified by Sirius letting him know that since the business was beginning to flourish, a trusted person managing it would benefit Sirius immensely. Most of the family were naturally distraught at having to leave the UK but were cheered at the prospect of staying an apparation or two away from their brother Charlie in Romania. Bill had decided to stay with Gringotts UK for the time being. But since his job took him around the world most of the time, he could pretty much work out of any branch, including Gringotts Budapest. The estranged Weasley, Percy, had naturally rejected his family's appeals, but the family was glad that he'd at least be well protected by the Ministry.

The logistics for the job transfer and the shift had initially seemed tricky but came through, the wheels of the bureaucracy greased liberally by the Black Fortune. To access the Black Family riches, since Sirius couldn't simply walk into Gringotts without running into a dozen Aurors first, Harry had acted in his stead and met with their Account Manager for a briefing on the state of the Black Estate. As small miracles go, Lucius Malfoy had been just a Wizengamot vote away from getting his hands on the Family Vault through his son. The properties and the lands, as well as the trust vaults, had long since been usurped by the Malfoys, but the vast majority of the gold, a good two hundred and fifty million galleons, was intact and untouched since the death of the previous Head of House Black, Orion Black, Sirius' father.

As the sole remaining member of the Potter family, Harry also looked over the family's holdings- a decent two million galleons passed down from Harry's grandfather. He signed the necessary paperwork and had the contents of both family's vaults sent to the Australian branch of Gringotts to a new vault registered under the name of the Evans family. It could only be accessed by Harry Potter, and in the event of his demise, Hermione Granger. A silent clause added Sirius Black to the full access list under the alias of Michael Evans.

Harry was worried that there would be exorbitant charges for the transfer of the gold, but it seemed that the Australian branch was more than willing to bear the cost, happy with the sudden influx of gold into their vaults. To appease the irked goblins in the UK, he freely offered any information he possessed on the return of Voldemort, saying that he wished the goblins to be prepared and safe in the coming war. That seemed to go over surprisingly well. He was personally met by the Director of Gringotts UK, who then proceeded to pick his brain for a few hours. Harry left behind a thankful, but highly worried nation of goblins as he left the Bank. Voldemort was extremely bad news for the economy and the flow of gold.

With this work done in the first few weeks after Harry's arrival at Grimmauld Place, Harry and Sirius had then briefly considered meeting Barnabus Cuffe, the Editor of the Daily Prophet, but ultimately decided against it. The man was a bigot, biased against half-bloods and muggle-born. His type would undoubtedly thrive under the rule of Voldemort and would have little sympathy for Harry's story - the validity of said story not even entering into the equation.

Things had not been all easy going. A point of contention between the Marauder and his godson was Sirius deciding to stay back in the UK. Sirius argued that the Grangers and Harry would already be in pseudo-hiding from Voldemort's men. But if Sirius went with them, they would have to hide from the governments too. Besides, he added, there were too many plans in motion in the United Kingdom. He couldn't manage them all from Australia. Harry eventually had to concede when Sirius pointed out that 12 Grimmauld Place was the safest place in Britain for him right now. Even if the Fidelius was compromised, neither the Ministry nor Voldemort's men could move against the location without a large ward battering contingent, and the resulting light show of the flaring wards would undoubtedly draw the attention of muggle police forces from around London.

With the Black Fortune safely stored away and the Headship of the House waiting to be passed down to Harry on his 17th birthday, the Marauder also had plans in the near future to permanently assume the identity of Michael Evans, a distant muggle-born cousin of Lily Evans. He'd come to the realization that while his name might one day be cleared of all charges, the stigma of the crimes would follow the name of Sirius Black for the rest of his life. Sirius revealed to Harry that he planned on changing his face. In the course of listing muggle-born and half-blood wizards and witches in the UK, he'd come across a pioneering muggle-born wizard who had combined plastic surgery with magical healing methods.

"A new face. A new identity. I'm going to be perfectly fine, Harry."

* * *

"Good morning everyone!" Harry greeted as he entered the dining hall, which was maintained as immaculately as always by the elves.

"Good morning Harry!" A chorus of voices welcomed him from around the smooth, oblong table.

The Weasley Parents were looking a little weary. They'd been working around the clock packing up the Burrow and getting ready for the move to Budapest. The twins were their usual boisterous selves and were quietly making plans to set up a joke shop in Budapest - Harry might or might not have slipped them the lease to a small market front property in the magical district. Ginny seemed subdued. She had quite a few friends in Hogwarts that she was leaving behind, but having experienced Voldemort's tactics in her first year, she was glad to be leaving Britain - at least for the time being. Ron seemed the worst off - moody and pensive. He was pissed at having to be separated from Harry and Hermione. While he was uncharacteristically tactful in expressing that sentiment, but it rankled him nonetheless.

The Grangers were sitting in a group, discussing their plans for the move to Melbourne. Hermione was secretly thrilled. She was looking forward to the new school she would be attending with Harry. Hogwarts, for all its... posturing... as the best magical school in the world, was sub-par in many subjects. And the student to teacher ratio left much to be desired. The Melbourne School of Magic had seemed very promising in that regard.

The final member at the table was Sirius Black. He looked healthier and much cheerier than when Harry had initially seen him after the debacle with the dementors. Sirius claimed that getting to spend time with Harry and finally having a goal to work towards was helping him much more than any potions regimen or healers could.

Harry sat down at the table, helping himself to a plateful of sausages and bacon, giving Hermione a half-hearted glare when she added to it a hard-boiled egg and a bowl of boiled vegetables. She stuck her tongue out at him and resumed her conversation with her parents. The adults, bar Hermione's father, hid a grin at their interaction.

"So, Harry, got any plans today?" Arthur asked amiably.

"Only in the evening, Mr Weasley. We're meeting with Madam Bones and her niece."

"Are you really?" He asked with interest.

"Yes, I'm looking forward to it quite a bit."

"Hmm... Do tell me how it goes, it'll be interesting to have a good ally inside the Ministry. And in such a meaningful position too." He mused.

Sirius, who'd been chewing happily away at a mouthful of bacon, looked at Arthur.

"I remember Bones from the last war. Good fighter, good instincts, and a _great_ arse..." Molly levelled a glare at him. "... nal of weaponized spells."

The teenagers snickered and Harry gave Sirius an evaluating look.

"You've dated her." He stated.

Sirius' eyes bugged out. "How did you know?! Did Remus tell you? He swore he wouldn't. That mangy, flea-bitten-"

" _Scourgify!"_

The Marauder gagged as his mouth filled with soap water.

"Sorry, Molly..." He glanced at Harry and whispered. "How the hell did you know?"

"I didn't." Harry looked triumphant and his godfather looked indignant.

"You tricked me! Why you little sh-"

" _Scourgify!"_

* * *

Harry and Sirius eventually settled their spat after the Marauder nailed Harry with an overpowered tickling charm while the latter was giving Hermione a hug as she and her parents were leaving for a bit of shopping. Needless to say, leaning on Hermione and roaring into her ears with laughter was not exactly the image Harry wanted to show off to her parents. After a while, the Weasleys too bid farewell for the day and floo'd to the Burrow to finish their packing.

Left alone to their schemes, Harry and his godfather spent the rest of their day putting finishing touches on a proposal Harry wanted to put forward to Amelia after dinner. Sirius wasn't very positive about the idea panning out, but since they already had a contingency under work, he supported Harry's plan. Dinnertime couldn't arrive sooner for the two. Harry, looking forward to his plans bearing fruit, Sirius looking forward to at least being near a certain someone he'd never forgotten - or would ever forget.

* * *

 **Author:**

 **I sometimes wonder why the adults didn't act like adults in the HP universe. But then I realize the story wouldn't be as adventurous. Or would it?**


	3. Can't wait to jump your Bones

"I apologize, Harry, but that's simply not possible."

Harry tilted his head. For a woman as polite and politically astute as Amelia Bones, a flat denial indicated that forces outside her hand were in play.

"Why not?"

"Well..." She took a sip of her Firewhisky, pondering how to answer his question. "The wizarding world has ways of solving the muggle world's toughest problems. Where muggles are constrained by the laws of conserving energy, we are not. Where they are locked into place by entropy and the flow of time, we have repairing charms and time turners.

If the muggles ever find out how powerful magic is and how versatile its uses are, their first instinct would be to enslave us and with their numbers, they have a fair chance of succeeding. That is why even the muggles cleared for knowledge about the magical world - especially their leaders - are not allowed more than the rudimentary knowledge of magic. This is also why muggle-born children are so strictly monitored for their magic use while outside school. A single magical child could be exploited to create an entire cottage industry - a repairing service where any item will be restored to a pristine condition, a shop that sells items transfigured from garbage... And before you think this is paranoia talking, let me assure you it's not. Out of respect for your youth, I've only scratched the surface of the disgusting and dark world of the exploitation of magicals. It's an everyday struggle for the Ministry's Obliviation Squad to uphold the Statute of Secrecy."

Amelia recovered from her digression and looked keenly at Harry.

"And that, Harry, is why you won't be able to meet with the Prime Minister - or for that matter, the Royal Family. One, their residences and offices are warded heavily. Once a magical even approaches the area, plainclothes Aurors are dispatched to keep an eye on, and if necessary, restrain them. Two, we simply can't afford to the let the muggle leaders know the true extent of the capabilities of magic. Your wish to ward Heathrow Airport holds much merit and would protect the muggle-born leaving the UK from reprisal. But taking the plan through the PM is not the way to go about it."

"That... makes a lot of sense," Harry confessed. "Sirius... uh... I mean, Michael... thought my plan was a bit naive too. Too clean, he said. But I had to try asking you anyway."

"I understand. Do you have any other alternatives?" Amelia asked.

"Of course we do! We aren't Marauders for nothing, you know."

"You really need to stop slipping up in front of me, you know. He _is_ the most wanted man in Britain after all."

"Yeah," Harry said sheepishly. "Can't help it really. But... about the Plan B... It's actually underway right now. We'll be done soon, I believe. I hope you understand if can't tell you about it. Plausible deniability and all that. But suffice it to say, if caught, we'd be brought up on charges by pretty much every department of the Ministry. Wait... maybe not the Magical Creatures Department."

A muffled woof was heard from the direction of a bookcase in the study.

"Ah, never mind. They'd be after our asses too."

Amelia dropped her head into her hands and sighed.

"You're purposely out to torture me, aren't you? Absolutely no respect or fear for the Head of the DMLE. And... to the bookshelf that sounds like a dog, it's good to hear your voice. You know, it brings back memories of when I found this black grim licking its ba-" she was interrupted by frantic barking from the bookshelf.

"What's that? You apologize for being an idiot and rushing off to confront a murderer without alerting your girlfriend that anything was wrong?"

The bookshelf woofed cautiously.

"And you understand that the next time you do something that stupid, I'm going to lock you into your dog form and neuter you? No joke?"

A plaintive whine was the only reply this time.

"Good. I'm glad to hear it." Amelia stood up. "Now, the next time I come here, I had better see a person named Michael Evans. I have the insatiable urge to backhand that idiot and then hug the stuffing out of him."

A much cheerier woof emanated from the bookshelf.

"Damn Ministry oaths." she good-naturedly complained to Harry. "And let this be a lesson to you, Harry, to never depend on magical oaths. Even oaths that are carefully worded can be easily surpassed in a million ways. There are way too many variables in the real world for an oath to work in its intended manner."

Harry nodded. "Good point. Security through obscurity is a much better option if you ask me."

"Hmm, but remember, hoarding information gives you power. And the moment you start doing bad things for the 'greater good' is the very moment you must step down from that position of power."

Harry blinked and blurted the first thing that came to his mind.

"Why on earth did you date Sirius? You're so wise!" And promptly blushed at Amelia's smirk. An indignant bark was heard from the bookshelf.

"He's not so bad really. Well... unless he's licking his ba-"

Frantic barking cut off the rest of her sentence.

Amelia laughed. A happy laugh. Harry saw that she was clearly thrilled at being reunited with Sirius, even if it was in such an indirect fashion.

"Alright, you stubborn bookshelf. Take care of yourself. I'll see Michael in a couple of weeks"

Harry and Amelia headed downstairs to collect Susan from where she was chatting with the Grangers. During dinner earlier that evening with the Bones', the Grangers, and Harry, Amelia had almost immediately caved to Susan's pleas to leave with Hermione to Australia. Of course, Susan immediately withdrew her statement and made it conditional, saying she would leave, but only after Amelia promised not to do something monumentally patriotic - in other words, not to get herself killed.

Amelia promised, placating Susan by saying that she would bring every paranoid technique taught to her by Mad-Eye to the fore. In addition, when Susan left in a couple of weeks with the Grangers, Amelia would shift residences to Grimmauld Place, where she'd be extremely well protected by the wards and the Order. Incidentally, Harry had innocently let it slip that a muggle-born cousin of his mother - 'a regular mutt' - would be arriving in a couple of weeks, and would definitely enjoy Amelia's company. Her eyes had lit up at that.

The duo found Susan in the living room where Harry had first chatted with Sirius all those long weeks ago. Hermione was excitedly waving her arms around and explaining something to Susan, who also seemed equally excited. The two girls noticed the new occupants of the room.

"Auntie! The Melbourne School of Magic offers Enchanting as a course from our fifth year! I won't have to wait for my mastery to study it now!"

"Is that so? That's wonderful news, Susan. You know, I'm glad we're both taking this well. I was quite afraid we wouldn't be able to be parted."

"The only reason I even considered leaving in the first place was because of your ex-boyfriend, auntie. Harry visited me a few days ago when you were in the office and told me everything. I'm glad you've found him again." She took Amelia's hand and squeezed it gently.

"So am I, Susan. So am I." Amelia gave her niece a warm smile.

A few minutes later, Susan and her aunt bid farewell to the Grangers and Harry as they took the floo to Bones Manor with a promise from Susan that she would be back tomorrow. She'd be a regular visitor over the next two weeks leading up to the looming departure to Australia. Amelia had reluctantly demurred when invited to the planning, but on the condition that Harry would force Siri- Michael to go through their plans with a fine-toothed comb.

* * *

"So, bookshelf. I'm sorry our plans didn't work out too well, but it was a pleasant visit nonetheless, don't you agree?"

Sirius had the same soft, dopey smile on his face that he'd had ever since Amelia left a while ago. He sighed happily from his arm-chair.

"Harry, Harry, Harry. Sometimes they say that the presence of a messenger sends a greater message than even the message they carry. My beloved godson, this was very much one of those occasions. Think about it this way - the head of the DMLE _willingly_ stepped foot into a house run by a _vigilante_ group. She practically entrusted her only family into our care. She's going to shift here in a couple of weeks too. Contrary to you thinking our plans didn't work out well, I have to say I couldn't possibly think of our day going better than this! We gained a ridiculously powerful ally."

"Doesn't hurt that it's your girlfriend." Harry slyly added.

"Hey, don't blame the player." Sirius tried to say nonchalantly. But the sheer happiness that shone from his eyes betrayed his actions.

A comfortable silence descended between the two.

"How are our plans at the Park proceeding, Sirius?"

"Not bad at all. The goblins are being far more helpful than I'd expected. You really pulled a number on them you know."

"Not really," Harry said, with a thoughtful look on his face. "I did it without thinking about it. But now that I am, I see that I created a win-win situation. I offered the goblins a safe passage out of Britain should things go badly for them. Not to mention the fact that I'm paying them for the work anyway. Of course they agreed. To not agree would be against their very interests."

"When did you get so smart you little runt?"

"God pitied me for being stuck with you and blessed me with the intelligence to manage the both of us."

"Insolent brat. I'll have you know you used to fit in the palm of my hand. Talk back to me, will you?"

"Why Sirius, this reminds me of a story I heard about a Black Grim licking its own ba... Ahh! Stop it!"

Multi-coloured hexes slammed into Harry before he fled from the room post haste, a Black Grim snapping at his heels.

* * *

A.N: I'm going to be posting short chapters from now. It makes it easier for me to write them. Also, this story will definitely, most probably, maybe, quite possibly, likely, be Harry/Tonks. Or not. That pairing is my absolute favourite of all time. Make of that what you will, dear reader.

I have to add, I won't be making any character over-the-top powerful, evil or maniacal. HOW DARE YOU REFUSE ME I'M HARRY POTTER BLACK GRYFFINDOR SLYTHERIN RAVENCLAW HUFFLEPUFF LE-FEY PEVERELL PENDRAGON somehow just doesn't do it for me.

What's that? Oh, alright fine. I _used_ to like stories like those and I certainly got a kick out an all-powerful Harry, but where's the excitement in that? Where's the despair or the danger? That's just wish-fulfilment. A noble pursuit, I agree, taken up by crusaders such as robst. But that shall not be my chosen path.

And finally, I have to confess something. And I'm sorry if I shock some of you... but... I'm not really Rowling... I don't own Harry Potter or any of its characters. I'm sorry, alright? *pouts*

Hmm, never thought I'd be one of those authors to write long notes, just rambling on and on about anything and everything under the sun like they have no other job in the... Sorry, I'm doing what? Rambling? No, no, I'm writing about rambling. That's not covered under the official rambling laws. It is? But that makes no sense! This is a paradox! I object! Point of contention! Sacrilege, dishonour! Blood traitor! Wait, what are you doing with that pink hanky? Don't come near me! Mmmmphph! Mmmphh!

The other voice in my head: Sorry about that folks. Clearly, the author was too tightly wound up and needed a release for his pathetic sense of humour. A sense of humour that's also self-deprecating, apparently. You know, we're reaching levels of self-awareness hitherto unheard of. Anyway, this author has been plotting to use his author note to push this chapter over 2000 words, but we stopped him! What? Didn't we? What do you mean _we_ pushed it over 2000? Bloody hell! This guy is a genius!

Why, thank you, beautiful.

*sighs* You can't hit on yourself, mate.

What? Why not! What about all those books I've read preaching self-love?

That's... you know what, never mind. That's all, folks! I do apologize for... myself? Hmm, a dual personality. Could be useful in the interrogation room. I could be both the good cop _and_ the bad cop.


	4. Trust

The sun rose like a slumbering ship over the bleak landscape, throwing long shadows on the ankle length heather. The North York Moors fall into the category of those places that can be called remarkably unremarkable. It was nothing but acres and acres of low-growing grass and heather covering gently rounded knolls. But any visitor to the region is at once struck breathless by the sheer beauty of it. The calm and peace, the sounds of rustling grass and warbling birds unique to the area, stream or two meandering through the land with their clear waters bearing fattened salmon and trout.

The North York Moors National Park, an area around a thousand and a half square kilometres in size, like all other National Parks in the UK, was protected by both the muggle and wizarding governments. The muggle government deemed the moors a special protection habitat and regulated immigration into the area, while the wizarding government monitored the magical species of the region and the two small wizarding villages that had existed in the northern reaches of the park for the better part of two millennia. The local Obliviation and Muggle Protection Squads also routinely scoured the Park. They added mild compulsions to the muggles that lived in the Park or visited it, urging them to ignore and forget any magical species of plants or critters they might come across. Similarly, any magicals looking to pop in and use a remote bit of land for their own purposes were thoroughly rebuffed by an Auror Squad. This arrangement had worked decently well for the good portion of two centuries. But nearing the dawn of a new millennium in 1995, one scheme sought to upset the status quo - not that either government would ever find out about it.

In the silence of the dawn, low voices conferred as an illegal undertaking came to an end. Fifty goblins gathered wordlessly in a field and were whisked away with a long muted hiss of depressurizing air that indicated the activation of their magical transportation system - The Window, as the wizarding world had imaginatively dubbed it. No wizard or witch in history had ever managed to pierce the veil of secrecy surrounding the workings of a portal. In fact, the most recent goblin rebellion a hundred and twenty years ago had been caused by an overstepping Minister of Magic who had tried to order the goblins to part with the secret behind The Window. Needless to say, the Minister was booted from office and shamed publicly before the goblins even considered reopening Gringotts. One disadvantage of the system, however, was its range. It could only transport goblins and large amounts of material to an area limited by a circle that centred on Gringotts, London. Unfortunately, that circle fell well within British borders, which was why the goblins were eagerly assisting Harry with an alternate exit from the country.

A lone goblin was left behind to finish the work in the field. He wore a striped, blue suit with a bevvy of medals on his lapel that denoted his status as a Gringotts Ward Master. He walked over to the two wizards who were inspecting the area with a standard-parchment sized mirror.

"Mr Evans. Mr Potter, I take it everything is in order?"

The mirror in Sirius' hands glowed a milky white and depicted an elongated, dotted rectangle in an inky black. Sirius finished running through the details that hovered next to the rectangle. Although invisible to the naked eye, the rectangle lay stretched out in the field in front of the three magical beings - a good five hundred metres wide and three kilometres in length. It was set in a small valley of sorts with a line of grassy knolls running the length of the rectangular field on either side. At one end, the two lines flowed together to form a hill that was a bit higher than those surrounding it. A small lake capped off the other end of the rectangle. If not providing a thorough defence by its lonesome, the surroundings at least ensured that there was no easy approach to the area. Harry was rightfully proud. It had been his idea to get out a couple of Firebolts, whip out disillusionment charms, and cruise over the North York Moors and "I'll bet you 20 galleons that we're going to find a beautiful piece of land just waiting for us." Harry was now the proud owner of 20 galleons that had burned a hole through Sirius' pocket.

Five feet beneath the ground, the edges of the field were marked at regular intervals of ten metres by cubic blocks of sandstone, their sides a foot each. The surfaces of each of these blocks were covered painstakingly in runic carvings that allowed them to act as a ward-stone, a magical device that would help anchor a magical ward scheme in place.

The device that looked like an innocuous mirror in Sirius' hand was a ward monitor - it allowed the owner or the maintainer of a ward scheme to do a myriad of things. Like pinpointing a fault that might arise in a specific ward-stone or to determine how much magical power a ward scheme was drawing from a Ley Line. The Marauder's Map, incidentally, was designed as a simplified ward monitor for one of Hogwarts' forgotten wards. A headmaster in the 15th century had dabbled with warding and set up an identification ward that was connected to the Sorting Hat. The ward, and consequently the Map, could thus identify any adult who'd passed under the Hat. All that was needed in real time was a simple magical signature reading ward that would then scan a magical signature and cross-reference it with the Sorting Hat's records of each of its students. A truly brilliant example of a ward that followed the first principle of intelligent warding - A simple ward is always the best ward.

Sirius completed his inspection of the monitor and looked down at the goblin standing in front of him.

"Yes, indeed, Ribald. The ward-stones seem to be in perfect order. Shall we activate the wards?"

Ribald didn't reply, but withdrew a gleaming gemstone from one of the pockets of his suit and passed it to Sirius. The stone was the size of Sirius' fist and was covered in minute runic arrays.

"Let's step outside the ward boundaries first... Good. Now, Mr Black, channel a bit of magic through that stone and the ward scheme will begin to power up from the Ley Lines. The illusory wards should activate immediately and will always maintain the illusion of what entities were inside the warded area when it was initially powered up. Right now, there's nothing and no one inside, so this is what the illusion will maintain, day or night. The next to power up will be the wide-area muggle-repelling wards and the confundus wards for magical beings. It will ensure that no one will approach this area by accident. Following that we have the offensive wards - paralysis, stunning, silencing, and more, followed by the defensive wards that nullify incoming spellfire. You already know the details, I believe. These wards will be kept under low power. Only when an unauthorized foreign presence with ill intent approaches the area will these wards activate and shift to full power. The magical reservoirs for such a scenario have been buried directly beneath the centre point of this field and will be able to power the defensive wards for a good thirty minutes under a barrage of heavy fire. Enough time to either evacuate or respond with force."

Harry listened and watched with interest as Sirius proceeded to activate the wards. There was a brief shimmering of the air in front of them and a low buzz before the wards settled. Nothing appeared to have changed.

"Of course, none of this really matters once you have the field under the Fidelius ward. As a Gringotts Ward Master, it is my duty to implore you to guard your secret with the caution of a miser down to his last galleon. When I return to Gringotts, I will follow due procedure along with the fifty goblins that worked with us overnight. I will have my memories of this place obliviated and all knowledge and details of the ward schemes that surround this place will be purged. This is of course to protect our clients as well as ourselves. If dark wizards suspected that Gringotts Goblins remembered the warding of any specific place, goblins like me would be very unsafe indeed. The only knowledge that the Goblin Nation will hold on to is the fact that Mister Potter has ensured a mode of safe passage for the goblins out of Britain, and that this passage, at least at its point of entry, is protected by the best defensive wards that Gringotts can offer."

Ribald was silent for a few moments before adding, "We are placing a lot of trust in you, Mr Potter. I hope you understand that."

Harry nodded solemnly. "I give you my word that should you ask for my help, you will receive it. Unreservedly."

"Good. Now let us complete the Fidelius ward. To give you an overview of its workings, imagine a giant tarpaulin that extends over our heads to a height of half a kilometre and is held down by the ward-stones that surround this field. What we shall be doing is to take the volume under that tarpaulin away. No, do not ask me how or where it goes, young Potter, for I don't hold the answers to the mysteries of spatial magic. Instead, think of your standard expansion charms on your school trunk. Where does the extra space come from? Is the space becoming bigger, or is it that your things are becoming smaller? How about the Knight Bus? Does it actually compress itself and everyone aboard as it weaves through traffic? Are we dealing with another dimension?

I have no clue.

In any case, the Fidelius will simply 'vanish' away the space inside the boundaries. The secret to finding that space again is what will be stored inside your soul, Mr Black. Once made the secret keeper, only you will ever hold rights to this piece of land and only you can allow access to it. This is one of the reasons why the Fidelius ward is almost never used by the goblin nation. Only two Ward Masters at any point in Gringotts' history are allowed the knowledge to the Fidelius ward..."

"Ribald..." Harry asked tentatively. "How is it that the Fidelius charm is easily accessible to wizards, yet so tightly controlled by the goblins?"

The goblin grunted in amusement.

"Ah, the Fidelius charm is precisely that. A charm. It has many failures and is notoriously unreliable. It can fail when the caster dies or when the secret keeper dies. It also so happens that a Fidelius Charm cannot be cast when another ward scheme is in place. I'm sorry to say this Mr Potter, but this was one of the reasons why Voldemort overwhelmed your parents on that terrible day. They had no warning, and once the Fidelius was compromised, they had little to no defence to fall back on."

Harry took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, trying to bat away what-ifs and maybes.

"The past will stay where it is, much as I wish for it to change," he finally replied. "Moving on, I assume the Fidelius ward is better than the charm?"

"Indeed," the Ward Master confirmed. "It's static and anchored to the ward-stones. This means that it cannot be brought down once activated by anything other than the secret keeper specifically deactivating it. If you were to ask for my advice Mr Black, I would suggest that you keep the secret limited to only those who manage this area. Anyone passing through can be administered a sensory deprivation spell for the duration of their stay here. But from what I understand, that shouldn't be a problem. This is only a way station, correct?"

"Yes, they will be here for a very short period. We will bring them here only once we're ready to leave."

"Wonderful. Make sure you follow that rule. The effects on a person not knowing the secret within a Fidelius ward for more than an hour... the results are not pretty, of that I assure you."

Sirius nodded. He'd been reticent to share the secret with every person that made their way through the field, but this was a brilliant solution. In fact, no one except Harry would even need to know that he was the secret keeper, he mused, or for that matter, that there was a Fidelius in place.

The trio spent another hour at the site, incanting the Fidelius protections and anchoring them to the ward-stones. Once they were done and the Fidelius took hold, the memories escaped, and Harry and Ribald blinked almost stupidly and looked around wondering what they were doing in the middle of nowhere.

"Thank you, Ribald, it's been a pleasure working with you. I wish you only the best in the times to come."

"Ah, thank you, Mr Black. I surmise that another one of my projects has been completed?"

Sirius nodded.

"Very well, I hope I have explained the obliviation protocols of Gringotts. The next time I meet you, I shall not recognize the two of you. But I would like to wish you the best all the same."

The goblin gave a brisk nod and touched something inside his suit, and vanished with a hiss of releasing air.

Sirius bent to Harry's ear and whispered.

"The Airfield is in the North York Moors."

Harry's eyes cleared as the memories came rushing back to him.

"Bloody hell," he breathed. "That is a ridiculously powerful piece of magic! For a while there I was struggling to remember even the very beginnings of our plan to set up a landing strip. It's like the magic encourages you to think about literally anything other than something that could lead you to even deduce the presence of a Fidelius warded place. I'm completely sold on the security now, zero doubts. Just make sure to limit the secret to me and the pilots. I'm guessing the pilots will have to spend a bit of time here anyway, fixing up the plane and what not. Speaking of, how's the search going by the way?"

"I've got four candidates lined up. They're muggle-born and moved to work for the Royal Air Force after finishing up with Hogwarts."

"They're fighter pilots?"

"The best of the best. Looks like they have an exceptional record of safety and health somehow. The muggles are effusive in their praise of them." Sirius grinned.

"Good, at least they didn't reject magic outright. They'll most likely be willing to help, if at least part-time."

"Indeed. I'm going to have to play it safe when I meet them. Of course, I'll do that only after my face surgery gets done with."

"Why, does your keen mind reckon they'll be reluctant to work for a mass murderer?" Harry asked.

"Shush, you cheeky brat. Now, when is your flight scheduled?"

"A week from now at five in the morning from Heathrow... Are you sure it's the best idea to leave such a clear trace?" Harry asked, even though they'd been over the point already. He was worried about exposing Hermione, her parents, and Susan to an attack.

"I want to sneak you five away in the middle of the night too, but we also need to use your departure to galvanize the people. If the boy-who-lived abandoned Britain, maybe they'll believe there's some semblance of truth to what he's saying. And that seed of doubt is all we need for our purposes. Besides, your destination is going to be untraceable anyway. Remember the plan?"

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Couldn't forget it if I tried. Let's see... Get off at Frankfurt. Get a train to Lucerne using the confounded empty passports that we'll be taking with us. Get a car in Lucerne. Dan Granger drives us North to Zurich. Get a train from there to Milan. Get a flight to Abu Dhabi. And the final leg is from Abu Dhabi to Melbourne. I've got the route in mind. I've got the glamours practised for Dan and myself. Hermione will take care of herself and her mom, and Susan has also been practising. We have a glamour for each leg of the trip along with a few in backup. We have rough identities for each should we be questioned, but with the confounded passports, I doubt we'll need that.

Hmm... what else? Ah, I've got around half a million US Dollars stashed away for travel costs between me, Hermione, Susan, Dan, and Viola. First class all the way should give us a fair bit of isolation from other travellers who are liable to remember even our glamoured faces... Hermione's mom almost fainted when I handed her a hundred thousand dollars in cash. I honestly don't know what they've come to think of me after this summer."

"You're helping them quite a bit, Harry. If nothing else, they'll be thankful. And remember, as soon as you get a thank you, demand their daughter's hand in marriage as payment for your help."

Harry snorted and replied dryly.

"Of course. And a few minutes later, when Hermione comes back from burying my body, she'll put out a hit on you for corrupting me."

The two had been walking up a nearby knoll as they talked, and finally reached the top. They sat down on the springy heather and watched as a tiny grey rabbit hopped away from them and into the morning. Harry held out his fingers trying to frame the rolling moorland in front of him. It looked like a beautiful scene straight out of a picture postcard.

"The world is so beautiful, Sirius. Why is it that people can't just enjoy it, be happy, and die?"

"There are so many philosophical answers I can give to that, but I don't know where to even begin. I will, however, say that we can only control our own lives. In that regard, I think you're doing exceptionally well. I know I treat you like an adult, and I've gotten used to it. But for a fifteen-year-old to behave as responsibly and as maturely as you? I'm so very proud, Harry. And so are your parents, I'm sure."

Harry blushed, warming at the praise coming from his godfather and mentor. It wasn't that Sirius withheld praise, but it was rare that the Marauder ever allowed himself a moment of genuine reflection. It was usually...

"I have to ask you something that's very important to my legacy, Harry..." Sirius said in a grave tone.

"Of course, Padfoot. What's the matter?"

"When is my godson going to nab the teenage Granger? I got laid for the first time during the Christmas holidays of my fifth year. If you want to beat my record, you've still got time."

Harry sighed. And the mutt was back.

"You have a bet with Remus."

"No, of course not," Sirius said indignantly. "That would be childish, immature, and unbecoming of an adult."

Harry raised his eyebrows sceptically.

"Alright, fine. I bet Remus that I'd walk around wearing pink clothes for a day if you don't get laid before Christmas."

Harry tried to hide the grin that was threatening to break out.

"Very well. I guess I'm going to have sex..."

Sirius cheered.

"...on the 26th of December," Harry concluded, and watched Sirius deflate.

"I hate you."

"No, you don't. Now, instead of waiting for your godson to get laid. Let's get you ready for your surgery so that _you_ can get laid. I don't know if you noticed, but Amelia looked a little frisky that day when she came over."

"Hey, that's _my_ girlfriend! Get your own, you little bugger."

"She's a saint is what she is if she puts up with the likes of you."

"...I can't really disagree with that."

* * *

A.N:

A time skip is coming up soon, I don't want to drag you all through the rigours of his schooling. Let's finish setting this up, and then we'll delve right into his adventures. I have so much planned! As for Tonks... honestly, the thought of a teenager with an adult woman excites my inner horndog, but appals my every other sense. So Tonks will be meeting Harry only after his age of majority. I've always wanted to see an interaction between the two of them as equals, without a shred of dependency coming into the equation from either side. Should be very interesting.

(And before you think me a prude, I'll have you know that I'm a first-class smut writer. *sniffs snootily*)

(I just can't figure out how to get a damn balance between all the moaning and thrusting.)


End file.
